Caesar’s demeanour and voice betrayed evident interest. ‘I will summon him directly—let him be at hand,’ he said. ‘And now, Tigellinus, best and most discreet of servants, we will let these matters of ours rest until to‐ morrow.’ Tigellinus made a low obeisance and withdrew. He went across the spacious peristyle, and disappeared down the passage, by which he had arrived, toward the quarters of the household staff, where he held a largely attended levee, as the newest arrival from Rome. The Emperor stepped to the door, and, slightly opening it, peered through to assure himself of his vassal’s complete departure. When the sound of steps had completely died away, he clapped his hands and then returned to his seat. In a few seconds the slender figure and handsome face of the Greek steward Zeno entered. ‘Know you the house of one named Tucca, standing on the cliffs at the foot of the hill of Mars?’ demanded Tiberius. The steward replied in the affirmative. ‘There is a young female arrived there in secret, together with a slave. I wish to have her described to me; I wish to know, if possible, why she is here—I wish to know all her movements. Neither she nor any one else must know that she is watched, and the matter must be confined to three persons—myself, yourself, and the spy, whoever he may be. And, especially, must it be kept from Tigellinus, your good friend, as I know.’ ‘I understand perfectly,’ answered Zeno. ‘If she desires to be secret you will find darkness more prolific than daylight. Go, and call the courier!’ The Greek vanished, and the Emperor took some small tablets from his bosom and proceeded to make a few notes. By the time he had finished the courier entered, bearing a packet of despatches, to which he immediately turned his serious attention. CHAPTER IV. Suspicion was a weed which clothed the face of the island of Capreae. It penetrated every nook of hill, cavern, or grove. The very air was charged with its essence, as it is loaded with electricity at the time of a thunderstorm. Every tiny leaf that nestled to the ground was the peering eye of an Argus. Little or nothing could hope to pass unnoticed within the narrow circuit of those sea‐girt rocks. There was an ear for each saying worth repeating, an eye for each movement worth noting, and all finally flowed into the channel which led to the dark, deep mind of Caesar. To the ready ear of the ambitious, plotting Prefect also, in his villa of Mercury, perched on the conical hill overlooking the Marina, the mysterious whisperings and rumours of the isle did not fail to float. What hope then was there of Plautia remaining secret?